September
by CyndraofShadowClan
Summary: AU. As Captain Carriedo sails across the seas, he recalls times how he got to where he was at the present time. Happily thinking back while making port in Italy, he soon finds out that a stowaway has wondered upon his ship.
1. Chapter 1

Yep, here it be! A new story that I've thought about for a while and I just needed to write it down. I've been experimenting with different time periods and such and i rather enjoy righting in those periods, although the research sure is a pain. Ugh, well anyway, I hope you all enjoy this new story! :)

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><p>A hearty laugh broke the still, salt air that surrounded the ship. The waves gently rushed against the hull of the wooden behemoth as it sailed through the Mediterranean. Such blue, pristine waters they were today. What a lovely day it was. With the sun shining, casting its warm glow upon the ship, the only ship that seemed to be sailing today. Oh, how it was a glorious day to sail the seas!<p>

The brown leather boot covers clapped the deck as the feet inside them trotted across the deck. The crew had been hard at work that day, seeing as they had to make port by nightfall. The entire plan was to stock up for the long journey to the Caribbean. He gave a light chuckle at the thought. He always wanted to go back and revisit, but never had the chance to. Surely, he was grateful to have to opportunity to now.

The wind in his face felt relieving as it cooled the excited sweat from his brow. How he loved the water and all her glory and vastness. Never-ending beauty as he always put it. It was going to be a lovely day for the crew and their giddy captain.

Captain Antonio Fernandez Carriedo he was. Many would agree that he wasn't a very great pirate; always getting marooned, defeated, or homeless on the streets. Antonio's damn luck always turned for the better. Nothing ever seemed to get the man down for long, being as bright and cheery as he was. Some wondered why he was even a pirate in the first place. Then again he was too much of a free spirit for government standards. He would always put his heart into his work or duties and then end up shirking them for something that was more him, like dancing to the lutes, viols, and other instruments being played in the streets.

Seeing as no one wanted to hire him for his carefree, laidback personality, he was often homeless, being unable to pay for even a room at the local tavern for more than a few weeks. And once being homeless for so long, no one wanted to hire unless they were desperate to hire.

One day, though, his luck turned drastically.

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><p><em>Four years earlier<em>

_Melilla, Spain_

_1717_

Hustle had busied the night with from the upcoming thrill and enthusiasm with the St. Valentine's Day festival going on. Streets were filled with music, dance, show, and most of all, laughter. Antonio had been enjoying himself the night, dancing with a few women and laughing with the children.

If there was one thing Antonio loved more than the sea, it was kids. Such happiness and innocence that they held close to them, playing in their fantasies of pirates and dragons and knights of a time long, long ago. He always wanted to be a father, even planned to have a family if his fiancé hadn't left him when he lost job for good. The pain lingered heavily within his heart. She had taken everything from him, not that he had much to begin with, only leaving him with about six shillings and a memory. A crumpled up memory that he wish he could just forget.

Antonia had decided, although going against his decision several times before, to spend some time at the tavern. He was always welcome there, the folk there being some of his only friends. They had helped Antonio whenever they could, but even now times were getting tough for the middle and poor classes. Even when they offered aid, food, or shelter, Antonio kindly refused.

He sat down to have a mug of mead. The sweet, honeyed flavor quenched his longing tastes. It had been a while since he had a good glass of mead. It felt nice to refresh his lips with the drink. Somehow he had managed to catch wind of a conversation being held not far from the table he sat at. He couldn't hear much, but what he did hear interested him.

"…Need of a crew… No I don' know…. Small ship… Maybe about a dozen… O' course not just anyone… Offer fair pay…"

Antonio gave a light "hm" before whispering to himself, repeating the words back, "Fair pay." He assumed it wasn't the safest offer or the best job, but he could use any opportunity he got. He may never have shown it, but he was desperate for a job, to live in a home again. Being in the streets did grow tiring and lonely after a while. Plus, he could really use a proper bathing.

Gathering up his courage, he took a stand and made his way over to the table that he overheard the two men at. "Excuse me, gentlemen."

The two looked up at him cautiously. The glare in their eyes warned Antonio fiercely. Both the men were rugged and rather built. One had a ragged, black beard with strong, lean shoulders. Thick hands lay gently on the table, one grasping the mug of a half-drunk brew of some kind, rich and dark in color, most likely ale. He wore a trailing deep blue doublet with a thin, eggshell colored shirt underneath. A large leather belt was decorated across his waist, and from what Antonio could make out, had a few pistols haltered to the belt.

The other was dressed less flashy, having just a plain white shirt with a waistcoat over top of it. Loose tan breeches fitted his legs with a black sash tied around his waist. He was less hairy as the first man with a five o'clock shadow on his face and a bandana covering his head. The man hand noticed Antonio looked him over and smiled, showing off yellowed teeth and black holes where some were missing. Antonio cringed in his mind but kept his outward expression the same.

"I couldn't help but slightly overhear your conversation. I've been out of work for some time now and I'm in need of a job. Anything will do."

This interested the larger of the two, loosening his glare on the thin man in front of him. "anythin' will do, eh? What're yer skills?"

Antonio chuckled lightly and responded with ease and delight. "You should be asking what they aren't. I've taken up most of my former jobs as being a carpenter. I'm pretty manageable with whatever tools I've been handed. I've cooked around the town once or twice. Oh! And I'm an excellent gardener! I can grow the best tomatoes this side of Europe has ever seen. I was even a reeve once, but I was fired because everyone kept saying I shirked my duties. I don't know what they meant by that."

"Gee, I wonder," the smaller man muttered off to himself. Antonio narrowed his eyes at the comment but ignored it otherwise.

"Ye think ye have what it takes?" the larger man asked again.

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't. I may not look it, but I can hold my own."

"What's yer age, kid?"

"Twenty-one years."

"Got a wife?"

"No, sir."

"Family?"

Antonio hesitated a bit before answering, avoiding eye contact with the man. "No. My mother had caught the pox when I was sixteen. At first she just had a raging fever, until it turned her insane. One dad when my papa came home with my brother and I, we found her hanging from the rafters. Seeing her like that drove papa into a grieving sadness that, a year later, lead to him getting very ill and dying. I was to take care of my younger brother for two years until we parted ways. I wound up here and met a fine young woman. But when I ended up without a job, she took all I had and left me for practically dead. I've been able to survive thus far, but even it gets hard at times."

The two stayed silent for a moment, letting what the lad had told them to sink in before answering. "Desperate then, are ye?"

"I assume you could say I am."

Rubbing his bear with his thick, sausage fingers, the man thought for a moment. He was in need of a few new men, for sure. He wasn't desperate but could use anyone willing or strong enough. This man seemed to have some courage and, being a carpenter, strength. "A'right, lad. Come to the docks tomorrow before noon an' we'll see what we got fer ye."

Antonio's face lit up like a warm fire crackling in the hearth. Someone was actually going to hire him! Oh, happy day! "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"Don' thank me yet, kid," the pirate muttered under his breath just loud enough for Antonio to hear.

"I can assure you I will not disappoint. First thing tomorrow then." He took a long leap away before turning around again. "By the way, my name's Antonio."

The smaller of the two pirates turned to his mug and chugged the rest of it down. "I'll give that sea bass three days. He won' last long."

The captain scoffed deep in his throat. "I'll be damned if he does. He ain't fit fer a job like this."

Antonio couldn't sleep that night. He was too happy and too busy daydreaming about what the job could possibly be. Maybe it was a fishing gig. They did look pretty rugged and they smelled a lot of salt. Salt and alcohol. There was another possibility plaguing the back of his mind, but he tried not to think about it. Unable to hold back the thought, it came to his attention.

As he lay back in the hay, staring up at the ceiling of the stable he shared with two horses, he couldn't help but think if the two were pirates. He had never seen one in his life, living most of it in the mainland. He'd heard the stories, though. Stories of cruel, ruthless beings that sailed the seas pillaging villages, raping women, stealing gold, jewels, and other treasures and valuable belongings. Every story he heard was about how horrible pirates were, how mean, vicious, cruel they were. Scum of the sea, as they were called. Antonio never wanted to get involved with men like this, and tried to avoid it all his life. He was a lover, not a fighter. He could hold his own in a fight, seeing as he had gotten into a few every now and again, but he avoided conflicts as much as he could.

A slightly cold breeze blew in his face from the cracked stable doors. Antonio rolled over on his side to shield himself from it. Hay dropped in his hair and tangled as the horse next to him playfully tossed it to him. He laughed lightly and tossed some hay back. These two horses were probably his best friends. He was all right with that. They didn't complain about him being homeless or judge him for being so happy and cheerful when others would be begging and gloomy. Lily he believed this horse's name was. The other was Eliza.

Lily trotted over and sniffed at his hair before standing next to him, turning to her sleep like her sister did half an hour before. Following their lead, Antonio rested as well, trying hard to fall asleep even with the excitement boiling in his belly.

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><p>Early next morning, before the farmer woke up and let his horses out, Antonio woke up and stretched his arms. The rooster had just started crowing, signaling his leave. He patted the two girls, saying goodbye to them. "Wish me luck with my job," he called to them before sprinting out of the stable and off the property. Before noon, the man had said. Well, he might as well wait by the docks and spend some time doing whatever he felt like around there while he could. Get some breakfast while he was at it, too.<p>

The sun was high and hot in the sky, shimmering brilliance across the beautiful ocean in front of him. Antonio sighed nervously, sitting on the dock with his feet dipped in the cool water. It was almost noon and he had not seen any sign of either of the men that he had spoken with the night before. Biting his lip, he wondered if he had missed them. His only job offer in months and he had lost it. He thought the day couldn't get any worse.

Antonio stood up from the dock and slipped his shoes back on. His eyes scanned the docks once more. Fear poured in his gut, as he didn't catch any sign of the men. Maybe he had missed them somehow.

Blue suddenly flashed in his vision. A velvet sheen that was hit by the sun just right. Antonio jumped at the sight and raced to catch up with the man. The man was hastily stalking towards a rather odd ship for a fishing vessel. Maybe it was English. Getting closer to the man in blue, he called, "Good morning! Aren't forgetting someone, are you?"

The man stopped and turned to Antonio. A small smile twitched on his bearded lips. "An' I thought ye wouldn' be makin' it." His voice was gruff but assured. In a way, he was glad to see the man in front of him. If anything, he'd be entertainment that's for sure.

Antonio gave the man a bright smile. He was about eight inches taller than Antonio and gave off an intimidating aura. Although Antonio was not bothered with such. His reply was just as bright as his smile, "Well, I need the job. I couldn't back out of the opportunity."

The man set a large hand on Antonio's shoulder. Antonio suddenly felt smaller with the muscular hand on his frame. "Then let me welcome ye aboard the _Queen Anne's Revenge. _An' I be the captain o' this here ship."

Antonio was lead aboard, getting more and more skeptical with each unwilling step. The captain's hand held firm on his shoulder, almost as if he was making sure the Spaniard wouldn't turn back now. As he saw the crew aboard the ship, he knew immediately what he had gotten himself into. Standing before him, working to set the ship ready for sailing was an entire crew of pirates.

He wanted to run, tried to, but his legs were frozen in place at the shock. All the stories he had heard and he was face-to-face with the infamous men that made those stories true, made them live and thrive fearfully across Europe. The captain pushed him forward forcefully. "No turnin' back now, kid. Ye've signed yer contract with my crew." He looked up and eyed the crew considerably. "Beel…Bile… Veil… For Christ's sake! Change yer damn name!" A pirate looked up from swabbing the deck and came over, greeting the captain. "Ye are goin' t'be in charge o' this sheep. He's new to the crew." With that, the pirate stalked off to his quarters.

The man sneered and muttered under his breath, "It's Beilschmidt," then turned to Antonio and leaned against the mop. "So, how'd ya get in a mess like this?" The man in front of Antonio was strange at the sight. His skin was mostly covered up, even wearing a bandana to cover his head, but what he could make out, he was pale, paler than anyone he had ever seen. The man took his bandana off for a moment to wipe some sweat off his face, showing off his pure white hair that shined bright in the light. Also another striking feature was his brilliant crimson eyes that flared with the excitement as the smirk on his face.

Noticing Antonio's surprised look, he chuckled delightfully. "No need to worry or anything. It's in my genetics. I think the doctors called it albinism or something of that. I don't trust doctors anyways."

Antonio had a similar feeling with the man about doctors. Putting that aside, he tilted his head somewhat and asked, "Your accent is strong."

"I'm Prussian, that's why!" he said proudly. "The name is Beilschmidt. Gilbert Beilschmidt. And yours?"

"Antonio Carriedo. I got caught in this because I was in desperate need of work. I overheard the captain speaking about needing a crew…"

"So ye volunteered, did ya?" Gilbert finished for him. "Ya poor fool, ya are."

Antonio felt indifferent about the comment but wasn't amused by it either. "And how did you end up here?" he asked curiously.

Gilbert handed the mop to Antonio and led him to where he was swabbing a few moments ago. He answered as if just shrugging the fact off. "Captured. My ship was destroyed by Mr. Sunshine. I was the last to survive of the crew so he took me here and made me apart of his crew. Here, start swabbing. We'll be sailing within the hour." Gilbert walked off to grab a brush, assuming Antonio knew how to swab a deck.

Antonio sighed and dipped the mop in the bucket of soap water and spread it across a small area, scrubbing the thick mop across it. The ship seemed to be in well-kept shape. The wood barely had any rot or splintering to it. Its color over the ages had turned the wood darker than it had been when first built. Antonio looked up at the mast. The cloth was well cleaned and gleamed like the beach sand in the light.

Gilbert returned moments later with a scrub brush. Getting down on his hands and knees, he pushed and pulled the brush back and forth on the deck. Antonio was unsure whether he should really trust this man or any of them. Hearing the stories made him frightened enough. Now he was living them? This day was as worse as it could get.

The vessel began sailing in no time away from the port, and Antonio watched as the shore got further and further away until it was completely out of sight and the blue ocean surrounded them on every side. The contents of his stomach began to churn. Maybe fish wasn't the best idea for breakfast after all. This was going to be a long trip.

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><p>A few months later, the year had changed to 1718. <em>Queen Anne's Revenge<em> had ported in the New World, the Caribbean, and they were now heading their way back to England. Over that time Antonio had calmed his nerves on being on board a ship full of pirates. He had learned all the stories were true to a point, but like everyone else, pirates had their own personalities and traits and even their own laws and morals. It quite surprised him, but even he was getting used to the pirate life. Who was he kidding, he was loving it! The freedom, the clean wind in his face and hair, being loud and cheerful, and he had soon fallen in love with a beautiful lady called the Atlantic, even if he had gotten seasick the first week into the journey.

Antonio ditched his old, shaggy clothes from before and now scampered about barefoot, with dark colored trousers. The months of being unshod were working his soles hard and rough. Not that he really minded it. In his opinion, it was easier to move about without shoes on. Had a better grip at times, and it was better to swim without shoes. He wore an open white shirt with a light blue sash tied over his shoulder and across his chest. A fine cutlass was hooked on the left side, holstered by the sash. His hair was now shaggy and flowed whichever way it wanted, unlike how he kept it neat and swept back like before. It had even grown out some since he had been with the pirates.

Antonio and Gilbert had become fairly well friends. They drank together and sang together and were often drunk nearly every night before Blackbeard interrupted them to put out all the lights. Do not disturb a sleeping pirate: no lanterns at night. Not even a candle. "The moon be yer only guide," as the captain put it. Although, even if it was hot and sunny out, Gilbert always wore something to cover his skin at all times. The albino said he burned easily and couldn't afford to have his grand skin turn red as a lobster.

"I did get burned when I was younger," Gilbert recalled one day when Antonio had asked. The day had been breezy with barely any clouds rolling across the sky. The water sloshed against the creaking hull gently as it cut through the surface on her journey. "Around when I was seven, methinks. My little brother, who was four, and I were playing out in the sun, all day long. Our grandpa wasn't home at the time and he always had me wear something at all times. I got tired of wearing clothes all the damn time so I ran around shirtless, and practically pant less as well." He chuckled lightly to himself and muttered off topic. "I had an impressive five meters even back then." Antonio just raised a curious eyebrow at the comment but said nothing of it. He didn't need to be shown the man's alleged, and well proud of, "five meters."

"Anyway," Gilbert spoke loudly, snapping Antonio back to his attention, "when grandpa finally returned, I was redder than a lobster! The burn was all over my chest, back, and even my head! It was insane, completely ridiculous. Grandpa went out to get me some weird oil or cream to help with the burn. Then my skin did the oddest thing. It started peeling! At the time, I didn't think it was normal. Thought I was turning into some lizard or something, which methinks would have been astounding, even to this day."

Antonio responded with a delightful chuckle, "I'm sure that was odd."

"At first, indeed. Lasted for a month before I finally went back to normal." Or whatever part of Gilbert you could really call normal. Even his speaking was different from what Antonio was used to. Must have been a Prussian/German thing, he figured. "That's something I would never do again. I even have my boundaries."

"Oi, y'freeloaders!" The quartermaster, William Howard, had spotted the two idling around while he was doing his rounds on the ship. "There's still work t'be done."

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><p>Antonio smiled and looked out at the water, leaning his forearms against the railing. He really had to admit, being a pirate wasn't half bad. Sure, Teach was a temperamental drunk, but Howard was pretty laidback as someone in his position could be. He had always threatened Gilbert and him with the cat o' nine tails if they kept dodging work like they did. Though he only snapped the whip at them, more like Antonio, once. When Gilbert had knowingly questioned why the instrument had never touched his back before, Howard only gave a laugh, "I know y'better than that, Balemeat. Y'd only enjoy it."<p>

If one thing ever annoyed the albino, it's that no one could or cared to pronounce his name right. Antonio had never tried to pronounce it, seeing as they referred to each other with their given names instead of their surnames. "Beilschmidt," he murmured to himself.

Gilbert seemed to notice the attempt and was glad someone was actually trying. "Ya aren't all that bad, Spaniard."

"Same to you, my Prussian friend. My strange, strange, Prussian friend."

"Aye, but ya forgot to add incredible in that sentence, mate."

Yep. Life as a pirate wasn't all that bad after all.


	2. Chapter 2

_1718_

The ship and her crew were docked off the inner shore of Ocracoke Island, just off the North Carolina coast. The crew was having an amazing night as their captain had been entertaining their guests, crew from the _Adventure._ Blackbeard's crew had taken reduction from the attacks and ambushes from a Naval First Lieutenant that went by the name of Robert Maynard. Or as the captain liked to refer to him as "a damned sorry, black-spotted, ballast pig."

The _Queen Anne's Revenge _had run aground on a sandbar in the Beaufort Inlet, cracking her main-mast and severely damaging many of her timbers. A sloop commanded by Israel Hands, second in command to Blackbeard, of _Adventure_ also ran aground, and both vessels appeared to be damaged beyond repair, leaving only _Revenge_ and the captured Spanish sloop they had managed to attain.

Blackbeard had at some staged learned of the offer of a royal pardon. The pardon was open to all pirates who surrendered on or before September 5th, 1718, but contained a caveat stipulating that immunity was offered only against crimes committed before January 5th. Although in theory this left him and another friend of his, Bonnet, at risk of being hanged for their actions at Charleston Bar, most authorities could waive such conditions. Teach thought that Governor Charles Eden was a man he could trust, but to make sure, he waited to see what would happen to another captain.

Bonnet left immediately on a small sailing boat for Bath Town, surrendered, and received his pardon. He then traveled back to the Inlet to collect the _Revenge_ and the remainder of his crew. Unfortunately for him, Blackbeard had stripped the vessel of its valuables and provisions, and had marooned its crew; Bonnet had set out for revenge but was unable to find him. He and his crew returned to piracy and were captured on September 27th, 1718 at the mouth of the Cape Fear River. All but four were tried and hanged in Charleston.

Before Teach sailed northward on his remaining sloop to Ocracoke Inlet, he marooned about twenty-five men on a small, sand island about a league from the mainland. Antonio and Gilbert had breathed the biggest breath of relief when it wasn't either of them to be marooned. They didn't question it, either. Unsure of what the captain was planning, they had asked no questions or took place in gossip that spread across the ship. Apparently it saved them a great deal of trouble with Teach.

When the two had learned about their captain surrendering, it came as quite a shock. Never had they thought the infamous Edward Teach would surrender to anyone. Not in his lifetime or anyone else's. Teach had been given official title to his remaining sloop, which he renamed _Adventure._ By the end of August, he had returned to piracy. When the announcement was made, Gilbert had cheered, startling everyone, shouting, "No that there be the captain we all know and… well… work for!"

Blackbeard had given a questioning glance to the albino but spoke no word to him. He had figured in the years he knew the Prussian, it was better just to go with what he said instead of spending precious time on the strange man's odd words and phrases.

Blackbeard's favorite anchorage, Ocracoke Inlet, was the perfect vantage point from which to view ships travelling between the various settlements of northeast Carolina. It was there that he first spotted the approaching ship of Charles Vane, another English pirate. Teach and Vane spent several nights on the southern tip of Ocracoke Island, accompanied by such notorious figures as Israel Hands, Robert Deal, and Calico Jack.

On the evening of November 21st, the crew was anchored on the inner shore of Ocracoke Island. Blackbeard had not sent out a lookout, seeing as he wouldn't need one on that night, and was busy entertaining their new guests. Telling stories of great pillaging victories while music and song filled the air from those with instruments, handmade or otherwise. Antonio and Gilbert were dancing arm in arm, although it looked more like jumping around in a circle over and over. Laughter and merriment lightened the air around the pirates. What a great evening it was. Wondrous for sure. After Blackbeard's crew had its reduction, things were tough but tonight was a time to relax and be happy.

At daybreak, Blackbeard had been getting the crew ready for sailing early that day. Antonio had, once again, shirked his duty to watch the sunrise across the water. Pinks and reds filtered through the sky, staining the tranquil waters with their hues. The salty wind gusted at his messy hair. Even though he had not drunk much the night before, he still had a minor hangover resulting in a soft headache.

Squinting his eyes, the Spaniard could've sworn he spotted something across the way. A few minutes later, when the sun was slightly higher, his eyes were confirmed. Two small crafts were in the channel heading their way. "Captain! Captain, I think we may have a problem!" exclaimed Antonio, gaining the attention of his captain.

When Blackbeard followed out to where Antonio was pointing, he was shocked for a moment though the expression was quickly changed to a challenging tone. The captain had called for the guns to be readied and fired as soon as the sloops got in range of the _Adventure_. The boats retreated shortly after to a larger vessel. Antonio couldn't make out the name of the ship, but it was definitely a Royal Navy ship. Most likely, Robert Maynard, a short-term enemy of Blackbeard's, was commanding the ship.

Blackbeard hurriedly cut the anchor cable to the vessel. He ordered for his crew to hoist the sails and the _Adventure_ maneuvered to point her starboard guns toward the sloops, which were now slowly closing the gap once again. Another ship moved to the port side of Maynard's, showing off the Union flag that was unfurled high in the air.

The _Adventure_ quickly turned toward the beach, heading for a narrow channel. It was uncertain whether or not this was the best idea Blackbeard had, but for the moment, it was his only chance of escape. The two ships, their names now visible and shining brilliantly in gold letters _Jane _and_ Ranger_, tailed them easily.

The three ships exchanged small-arms fire, Antonio nearly taking a bullet to the neck, feeling it graze past his skin as the _Adventure_ came to a screeching halt. His blood had frozen in his veins with the feeling biting at his neck. He hadn't even realized he had fallen to the ship's deck, which would explain why his headache suddenly emitted more pain along with his arm.

Someone quickly snatched him up onto his bare feet, shouting something at him. Blurred vision and a ringing in his ears was all he was able to make out. He saw two flashes of red blur across his eyes and then the ship vibrated, black blocks flying across his vision. Slowly, all of it started to come back to him. Gilbert was still yelling out his name, shaking him. Blood trickled down from underneath his bandana and also stained a good portion of his shirt, although he did not seem injured. Shouting came next, then the shots and blasts from the arms and the cannons below deck.

"ANTONIO!" Gilbert screamed at the top of his lungs, just to be heard over the guns firing.

This snapped the Spaniard completely back from his daze. His eyes turned to saucers at the blood on Gilbert's shirt. "You're bleeding!"

Looking down at his shirt, Gilbert pressed his hand quickly to the stain. "Actually, methinks that was just the guy that got slammed by the cannon ball next to me." How Gilbert seemed completely unfazed by that fact was beyond Antonio's knowledge, and Gilbert wouldn't let him ponder it either. "The _Adventure_'s run aground. The jib sheet was cut and we lost entire control of her. We've been firing at the other two and they've taken heavy damaged." With a quick glance to the side, Gilbert's words were confirmed. The broadside was devastating indeed for the two ships that also seemed to be grounded from the time. He had wondered for a moment if they had won the battle. The battle then became a race to see who could float their ship first.

Blackbeard watched as the vessels closed, and ordered his men to be ready. Their plan was to board the _Jade_ and kill every naval soldier on that ship. Once the two vessels contacted one another, the _Adventure_'s grappling hooks hit their target and several grenades broke across the sloop's deck, spilling shrapnel and smoke all over. As the smoke cleared, Blackbeard led his men aboard. He was optimistic from the sight of Maynard's empty ship.

Antonio all of a sudden heard numerous shouting and more pistol fire come from the hold as more of Maynard's men ambushed the pirates. The crew was surprised at the attack, thinking they had won the victory that day and were taken aback at the assault. The pirates rallied and the two groups fought across the deck.

The wood was slick with beneath Antonio's feet. Quickly daring a glance, he noted how blood splatter all across the deck. Looking up just in time to parry a soldier's cutlass with his own, he realized that the broadside had done more damage than he first thought.

After killing his first soldier, Antonio right away when against another. This soldier was dripping wet and must've been thrown overboard from a blast. He saw the soldier reaching for a flintlock holstered in his side. Antonio mimicked the idea and went for his own, though when he reached for it, the other soldier had been faster, drawing and pointing the pistol straight for Antonio's head. "Burn in hell, pirate," he sneered and pulled the trigger. Antonio flinched as the frizzen snapped against the flint, feeling for the pain and the shower of sparks to fly out of the barrel. What Antonio heard, though, was a _clunk_ and saw several droplets of water fly out the barrel.

His heart flared with optimism as he pulled out his own pistol and boasted, "Look who's talking," before shooting the man in the chest, dropping to the ground.

"There ya go, Antonio!" Gilbert called as he smacked the butt of his pistol against a soldier's head, knocking him out and giving another solid whack to finish the job. "Show these filthy, weak-kneed swine who's boss!"

Blackbeard and Maynard fought strong completely isolated in their own battle. They had both drawn their flintlocks and fired at each other before disposing of them afterwards. Teach drew his cutlass and managed to break Maynard's sword in a hefty swing. Against superior training and a slight advantage in numbers, the pirates were pushed back toward the bow, allowing the Navy crew to completely surround Maynard and Teach.

Antonio knew the fight was lost. Blocking one final blow and twisting the cutlass out of the soldier's hand, he dropped his own and held his hands up to his chest. "You can arrest me now. I surrender."

Gilbert was a fighter by heart, but even he knew when to quit. He dropped his sword and pistol and surrendered as well. Not long after, the captain fell with a deadly wound to the neck. The rest of the crew submitted to arrest. There were only sixteen of them left. They wouldn't stand a chance even if they kept fighting.

Antonio side-glanced at Gilbert and matter-of-factly said with a chuckle, "We're going to be hanged, aren't we?"

"Most likely. Damn it all!" He slapped his hat against the boat before returning it upon his head. "I was looking forward to seeing my brother again."

Antonio sighed as one of the soldiers chained his hands up. "At least I was able to fall in love again."

Gilbert's face twisted in a pondering yet confused way. As they were being led to some smaller crafts that were tied on the ships and good for usable transport, Gilbert took a moment to compliment what his friend. "Fall in love? Ya've hardly even spoken to a woman since he brought ya on the ship!"

"But 'tis the sea that I fell in love with."

He lifted a brow at the other man's words. "Did that smack to the head do something to yer head, mate?"

Antonio shrugged without a care. "If I'm going to die soon, I might as well take in her beauty while I still have the chance."

Gilbert laughed at the thought. "Die? It's only been the second chapter. Only the yellow-bellied die in the second chapter!"

Stunned at the Prussian's speech, Antonio scooted away from him ever so slightly. Antonio always wondered and often questioned the sanity of the pirate sitting next to him. Now, it was at a new level. Talking like their life was some kind of silly story. Concerned with what Gilbert would say next, he just braced himself that he wouldn't start talking to things that weren't there or saying that the moon was made of cheese.

* * *

><p>Yes, because only Gilbert is awesome enough to break fourth walls.<p>

I know I haven't been caught up on keeping a schedule with updates, but with life, it's a little difficult. :/


	3. Chapter 3

I finally was able to get past the block for this chapter and I had a blast and a half writing it. I do hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

One of my longest chapters ever written and I am so proud of it.

* * *

><p>Virginia was getting cold this time of year. Leaves on the grand Oaks, the looming Ash trees, the towering Sycamores, the sturdy Maples, and many other species along the edges of the dirt paths were just starting to adjust to the cold, shifting colors from green to a multitude of contrasting yellows, bold reds, vibrant oranges, and even soft violet hues every now and again depending on the tree. The old beaten trails had been traversed on many a time before they had worn the grass down to the dirt that resided beneath.<p>

Autumn was, in fact, Antonio's favorite season.

During their long trek from Ocracoke Island into the Virginian mainland, Antonio had really love the sights that he had missed so much on the mainland before, not as much as he missed his blue lady that was. Nothing could make the journey more perfect. Well, maybe music would be the only thing. Antonio wasn't even bothered by the fact that they were shackled and watched all hours of the day, even when pissing in a bush, or that they were actually being led to their pending deaths.

"Why can't we have any rum again?" Gilbert asked for the — what was it now, 28th time? Antonio himself lost track.

He would only be reminded because Maynard would simply roll his eyes and reply, "For the 36th time," — he really did lose count — and then give some reason for why. Some examples were "you bastards already drank what was left from your ship," and "because it would only be giving in to the pleads of scum." This time, however, he said something different, "For the 36th time, I will not give you anything alcoholic. We don't even have any on hand. However, you may request some with you last meal."

Antonio bit his lip slightly. "Last meal? We haven't even had a trial? Our fates can't be decided already."

There was a certain glint in Maynard's eyes. It almost seemed like he was mocking them. "Yes, but pirates are all the same, therefore treated the same. No matter how you plead or how your past has been for you, you will all be hanged in the end."

Antonio shot back, "But we were under contract!" Though he wouldn't admit it to his enemies, he was made nervous by the fact of dying. Even if he did accept his fate, he knew he wasn't ready.

"A contract that you broke with your crew" — he gestured towards all the other pirates in the shackles all chained together — "and with your captain as well." Seeing Antonio open his mouth again, he held up his hand to block the Spaniard's face, adding quickly, "I do not want to hear how you were forced to join the crew. I have heard more than my fair share and will not stand for it, mostly when proof is lacking."

Exasperated with the fact that Maynard knew what Antonio was thinking. In the back of his mind, he wondered just how many pirates Maynard had faced (and put down) in his lifetime. Shoving the unsettling thought to a forgotten corner of his mind, Antonio silenced himself for the remainder of the journey unless spoken to, mainly by Gilbert.

"So," Gilbert suddenly brought up after a long moment of silence, "why can't we just have a damn wagon take us to Williamsbeard?"

"WilliamsBURG! Must you be so irksome?"

The albino shrugged nonchalantly. "Someone has to do it, mate."

Maynard groaned and slapped the palm of his hand in his face. "Bloody pirates."

"But my question still stands. Why can't we travel in a wa—"

"Because you bloody pirates don't deserve to be treated like civilians or guests!"

"Technically we are your guests," Antonio muttered, deciding he had nothing better to do.

"Prisoners are not among the definition of guests, pirate."

Gilbert smirked to himself inwardly. "Ah, ah, ah. We are prisoners of yer ship, my friend. Now we are traveling to a different prison which, in proper terms, makes us guests for the prison."

"Only temporary travelers are guests."

"But we'll only be staying temporarily until our deaths, then we will part, body and soul, from the prison."

"Not if I bury you in the courtyard, you won't leave!" He pulled out his flintlock and aimed it for Gilbert's head. "Now, I could off you right now and leave your body for the buzzards, and I won't hesitate a second to drop your sorry corpse, or you can quiet that mouth of yours and behave like a prisoner."

Gilbert motioned to the other pirates who were muttering amongst themselves at how foolish he was for testing a Naval Officer. "Ya mean these sorry cowards? If ye're going to kill us one way or another, is it a bad thing to make these last moments worthwhile, mate? Instead of grieving like they had nothing to live for as if they were out on the streets begging for food."

At the time he mentioned being homeless, flashbacks littered Antonio's mind

"My life was spectacular, granted there were some things I could have done without, nonetheless I did spend my life well. And I plan to live every moment of it worth my while. We could die at any moment. Some of us do without ever living life to its fullest each day of their lives."

Maynard paused for a moment. The expression on his face to hear that coming from a pirate shocked him. He lowered his pistol and turned to walk without saying a word. In his mind, he was unsure how to respond to the pirate's words. This Gilbert and Antonio were surely not like other pirates. A twinge stirred inside of him but as an officer of the law, he pushed it aside out of habit.

Antonio glanced at Gilbert as they walked. Their footsteps crushed the hard pebble and dirt road softly beneath their feet. "I haven't met many people who had thought the same way, especially other pirates."

Gilbert looked from the sky to Antonio, hands behind his head. He simply shrugged his shoulders. "Life's too short to let the little things stop ya from living. I've had my fair share of times where I could have given up quite easily. But then I wouldn't be were I am today."

Antonio stared for a moment. He could surely understand the feeling Gilbert gave off. He had thought back throughout his past. Times and times again he had had tough times, as did everyone else, and had gotten through them no matter how bad they were. When he lost his parents it wasn't easy. He was able to make it with his brother for some time, and after they parted ways it wasn't long before meeting his ex-fiancé. Things went downhill when she left him to rot on the streets, but he showed others that he could make it. And he did just that. Not letting anyone discourage him. He made his life just fine until Blackbeard came along and took him aboard. He thought he had made a horrible choice there. After some time, and having Gilbert as a friend, he grew to enjoy the life of a pirate. It wasn't exactly the life he wanted at first, but he enjoyed the freedom and the ocean more than anything. He'd do it all over again if he had the choice. Yes indeed, life was sure fine for him. Not perfect to the exact words, but close enough in his reality.

* * *

><p>Smoke rose from the chimneys in the distance. Echoes of noises and voices reached their ears. Metal clanged against metal as the smith busied himself with molding horseshoes. Kids played and laughed in the streets while carriages passed by, the horses snorting the flies away from their nostrils and their tails swaying to their rhythmic trotting.<p>

Flavorful scents of freshly baked bread, cakes, and other pastries and delights that drew kids to the windows that murmured how delicious everything looked and adults walking out with wrapped bread or the occasional treat for their child. Cooking meats also swirled around for whoever wanted a quick something to eat instead of taking it home to wait for it to cook.

However, when Maynard strolled through with the pirates behind him, everyone had paused their activities to stare at the pirates. Expressions on each of them changed. Mothers shooed their kids inside. Others sneered and glared at the pirates. Whispers rose up among the citizens. Their scowls grew more sinister and full of hate as one murmur seemed to raise up above the rest: "That's Blackbeard's crew, that is."

"Looks like they'll be another hanging soon. Good riddance. Damned pirates." the man spat at the pirates landing near Antonio's foot. Antonio himself grimaced slightly at the ground where the blob of mucus landed but looked forward, holding his straight face once again. At best, he tried ignore all the shouting and threats of hanging, kids throwing stones, and other phrases that Antonio would not rather repeat from annoyance, but ignoring them only seemed to spark them to poke and prod even more at the chained men daring them to say the slightest thing.

The prison was in the middle of the town right next to the courthouse. It almost seemed that the two were connected by a single hallway in the back of the building as they quickly passed it. As Maynard walked into the jailhouse, he described to the pirates on the next few days of their lives. "Tomorrow will be your hearing," he said with pride as they walked down the stairs. "After that, on the exact time of 3:45 in the afternoon, you shall be hanged." At the bottom of the staircase, he turned to a guard and instructed him to lock them in a few cells. He glanced at the pirates and mouthed as if counting before adding, "Three or four to a cell."

The guard gave a quick "Yes, sir" before taking the keys to the locks on the shackles and guiding the pirates to a few empty cells. Following Maynard's instruction, he placed three to a cell starting with the last to the first. When he got to Gilbert and Antonio, he looked inside the next cell. He paused for a moment and shrugged, unlocking and opening the heavy, iron bar door. "All right, you two. In you go." He pushed the two in before locking the door behind him and walking away whistling a tune unknown to Antonio's memory.

"Ah, I am glad I am not alone anymore. It was getting rather quiet in here." A man with long, curly blonde hair that flowed to his shoulders sat in the corner against the gray block walls. He dressed like they did: thick, black boots that buckled on the side with loose tan pants that were tattered and torn in places, mostly at the knees. A long-sleeved white shirt was worn under a worn leather vest. A well cared for pirate's hat sat atop his head.

"Ye're a pirate, too?" Gilbert asked. Neither of them had expected to see anymore new pirates before their executions.

The pirate stood up and extended his right hand towards the two. "Francis Bonnefoy. Most of my crew and captain were killed. It was just me and three others. They're in here somewhere, but they'll soon be taken to the gallows."

Gilbert leaned in to whisper his next sentence, "Have you thought of escaping?"

"Of course. I have tried twice before, but it hasn't gone over so swell."

"There's three of us now," Antonio said, taking a seat on the cold stone floor. "There's always strength in numbers."

Gilbert agreed with a nod. "Aye, we've had our proof of that several times now. But also the strength of our wills. If ya ask me, I have no plans of dying now. My will is still strong and free, thus requires freedom."

"I'm starting to like you guys already," laughed Francis. His laugh was full of heart and inspiration. He leaned in closer towards the two, they in turn leaning closer, too. "I have thought up a plan that's foolproof. I was going to execute it myself, but now that you guys are here, it'll be simpler than ever."

"Great!" Antonio had a wide smile across his face. Only a few minutes in custody and there was already a chance of escape. This couldn't get any better, he had thought. He already hated being in this prison already. He couldn't see the ocean from the window. Actually, he could hardly see anything at all. If he didn't know it was daylight out just from being outside not too long ago, he would've confused it for the night sky. Yet, he knew they were downstairs. So why did they build windows in the cell. Geniuses, he thought sarcastically.

* * *

><p>Day transitioned to night within the next hour or so. Antonio heard the muttering of the other prisoners and pirates talking about their experiences they've had or happenings they feel they had accomplished within their lifetimes of whatever their occupation was in life whether it was assassin, pirate, Antonio even heard a mutter of someone being imprisoned for thieving to feed his family.<p>

Francis leaned against the bars of the cell, staring inward. While the other two sat in silence, picking at the wall or lying down with shut eyes, he shifted slightly. He hated the silence. With a more accustomed background for loud places where one could converse (more like flirt) with many people, this place bothered him. Even on his ship, there was always time for a round of rum and conversation.

Francis turned around and peered out as far as he could from the bars. From where he could see, there were only two guards on duty that night. He stepped back to the other two. "We have the plan ready?" he whispered to the other two. They nodded their return. They were all ready to bust out and rejoin lady freedom once again.

Francis stood up and smiled then, with a louder tone, said, "I never did get what your..." the Frenchman tried to place a word to it "_unique_ skin condition was called."

Gilbert glanced towards the front before speaking louder than usual, sounding irritated. "It's not a skin condition. I was born with it."

"But it's so odd. So unnatural."

"If yer looking for a fight, yer messing with the wrong pirate."

"S'il vous plaît. You burn up in the sun. What makes you think you can fight like a true man with those pink eyes of yours?"

Gilbert shivered slightly. Even if it was planned, he hated when people would refer to his eyes as pink. They weren't pink in the slightest, he always told everyone. Though he's never noticed, he had heard from some people that his eyes flare crimson when he's angry. Gilbert grabbed Francis by the shirt and thrust him against the bars earning a grunt from the man. He muttered a quick apology before returning. "My eyes aren't pink. An' don't ya dare try to question my skill when all ya French cowards do is run the other way."

"P-Please, monsieur. I do not want a fight."

"Yeah?" Gilbert balled his fist and pressed it against Francis' chin. "Well maybe I do, huh? What will ya do then, ya spineless coward?"

"Knock it off!" The guard stepped in front of the cell. His eyes flared at the two. "It would be too much trouble to separate you two. Your sentences will be shortened if that has to happen."

"Who gives a hog's ass? We're as good as dead anyway." Gilbert tightened his grip on the collar of the shirt. "It would teach this'n here not to mess with a true pirate."

Francis raised his arms in front of his face in defense. "If it would be in your best interest, eh, Sir Guard, I would like to be in a cell of my own. I would rather have my face kept the way it was before my execution."

The guard sported a confused expression. "What fer?"

Francis flipped his tied back hair and flashed a grin. "Every man should have the right to look their best before their untimely death."

Lifting his hand up further, Gilbert commented, "Say one more thing and I'll give you something to look forward to."

The guard narrowed his eyes at the men. "Go ahead and hit him then." There was a hint of skepticism hidden in his voice.

A shot of fear was thrown at Gilbert with wide eyes. The look in the albino's eyes showed neither fear nor mercy. Francis pondered if Gilbert would actually pull this off and do the deed. Francis shut his eyes tight and felt his jaw shift with his skull as the contact was made. Caught off guard by the act, he stumbled and fell to the ground.

"C'mon. Get up an' fight like a man," Gilbert smirked. He knew that the flamboyant pirate wouldn't throw a fist back. Much less hit him. Yet, he humored himself to let Francis stand up and ball his fist up.

France threw his punch and Gilbert intercepted it with his palm. Lurching forward, however, he wasn't expecting a second punch right in the gut. Gilbert coughed and tasted several drops of blood. Francis chuckled, "I am not as weak as you think, mon ami."

The albino's hand went straight for Francis' throat. Throwing his back against the iron bars, Gilbert began to drain the air from Francis. Nails dug into Gilbert's hand begging him to release the hold.

Just as his face was starting to turn blue, the guard stepped in and broke the two up. "Hey, now. I am not going to be responsible fer the death of an inmate while he's held up in my jail." He had a tight grip on both their shirts and was strong enough to hold each at arm's length without a struggle. "Johnson! Get over here."

The other guard came to the scene. "Did they get into a tussle already?" he questioned in a deep voice. He put a hard grip on Francis' shoulder and pulled him away. "For saying you don't, you sure act like a sea rat."

"I assure you, monsieur. I am not the one who starts these quarrels."

The first guard snorted but before he could respond, he heard a quick click before his world went black. Panicked and hurried, Antonio cocked the pistol once more and executed the other guard. Silence clouded the room right as the echo of the shots died down. Antonio's breath was shuddering and he felt his heartbeat through the vessels in his neck.

Finally, Gilbert broke the silence with a shout and a wide grin. "Nice one, mate! Splendid, that was!" He kicked one of the guards over and took the gun holstered to his side along with a set of keys. "Now let's get out of here before anyone decides to come checking out the noise."

As the three of them ran by all the other cells, a thought came to Antonio. "What about the other shipmates?"

France peered back at Antonio with a look of disbelief. "I am sorry but I am worried about saving my own ass rather than anyone else's."

"Ya have to look after yerself before anyone else, mate!" Gilbert agreed.

They hit the stairs leading up to the entrance, to the world outside. There was no other light shining down besides a few torches; a good sign for them. They climbed the last few steps and Gilbert peered outside the small barred window carved into the door. Crickets chirped close by under rocks and in patches of grass around the above ground building of the jail. A group of men could be heard chatting a distance away, though their words were unable to be made out over the noise. The tavern, however, soared and bustled with excitement and merrymaking. Laughter vibrated the air as well as drunken singing and conversation. Instruments played their tune, making the whole area of the town hearty and joyous. You could almost feel the energy that the celebration gave off to its surroundings.

"We couldn't have picked a better night to bust out." Gilbert fiddled with the lock and carefully opened the door wide enough to stick his head out. Cursing in his head, he noticed the group of guards were closer than they had sounded. They must've been maybe fifteen feet away at most. Three men were in the group with their rifles resting against their shoulders. Pulling back, he turned to the others. "Three guards maybe four or five meters away. We'll need a distraction if we're going to escape clean. Any ideas, mates?"

"Why don't we just kill them and run?"suggested Antonio.

"I don't think having the whole town on our ass is a very smart choice."

Francis put a finger to his lip in thought. A distraction, huh? Looking around he spotted an unlit oil lantern hanging from a hook near the door. Giving a hum, he took it down and removed the glass chimney. The top of the wick was black with char only to half an inch. Removing said wick, it turned out to be roughly six inches long with its fibers dripping with oil. A good portion of oil sloshed around in the fount when swirled.

A satisfied grin appeared on his stubble-covered face. The cogs in his brain began to click and grind. Risky it was, but if it turned out to work, it would mean their undetected escape. He shivered with anticipation and turned to the other two, informing them of the plan. As simple as it sounded, the action of carrying it out sounded extremely difficult.

"That's mad!" Antonio exclaimed. He quickly tensed up when Gilbert shushed him. Lowering his volume, he continued. "How do you know it won't go out right away?"

"I do not know," Francis admitted, shrugging his arms up. "It is only a chance it will work."

"One we'll have to take." After taking in the look Antonio gave him, Gilbert quickly commented, "Do ya have any better ideas, mate?"

Giving in, Antonio sighed and shook his head but said nothing more.

"Très bon. I will need a stone. One small enough to tie around but heavy enough to throw a good distance."

Once again, Gilbert opened the door slightly and crouched to the ground, peering out to search for a fair sized rock. An oddly shaped stone lay just a few feet away in front of him. Taking a quick at the guards, he reached out and snatched up the object, pulling himself back into the doorway. "It's the only one I can reach."

The stone was a little smaller than what Francis wished it to be, but it would have to do. The odd form of the rock made it difficult to tie the greasy wick around. Only a mere inch and a half of wick stuck out once it was tied. He instructed Antonio to bring up one of the torches from down the stairs. Grabbing the half-full fount, he dumped the oil onto the rock, soaking the entire wick and rock. Francis suddenly realized a flaw in his plan and swore. Too late now.

"Open the door, please," Francis politely asked. Gilbert did as asked, and the door swung inward showing off the view outside. Francis' mouth pulled into a smile. Right across from them was a house. The darkness made it hard to make out, but it looked as if curtains covered the windows. Biting his lip, he had to trust in his skill and aim if this was going to make it.

Antonio stepped up the stairs carrying a burning torch in his hand. A nervous expression crossed his face. So many things could go wrong that the chances to succeed were slimmer than a blade of grass. What if the fire went out before it hit its target? Would the guards see where the throw came from? Even if the rock did make its target, would the guards be dimwitted enough to run at the noise or think where it came from? Too many questions spun in his head giving him a minor migraine.

Francis nodded to himself, needing reassurance before taking a stance. He pulled his hand back and paused. Before he could instruct Antonio, Gilbert stopped the two of them. He quickly pulled off his glove and handed it to Francis. "Ye'll burn yer hand off if ya try that."

The Frenchman was about to retaliate, but accepted the generous offer. He slipped the worn, brown leather glove on then returned the rock to that hand and resumed his former stance. "Light the wick."

Antonio tilted the torch and touched the fire to the threads. Within seconds, the rock went ablaze. Francis felt the heat of the fire tear through the glove onto his oil-soaked skin. Tensing his muscles, he pulled his arm forward and hurled the rock towards his target.

It spun and arced through the air as it traveled. The flames covering the rock sputtered and struggled to stay alive. However, the wick held tight to the flames like a child to its mother. The speed the rock sailed surprised the group, even Francis. Seconds after the throw, the sound of glass shattering pierced their ears. They each held their breath as they waited for the next step. From within the house, the curtains suddenly glowed with orange and yellow. In silent victory, they celebrated their success.

Francis pulled off the burning glove and tossed it to the ground. Gilbert gave it a good stomp or two before picking it up. The entire palm of the glove was burned through. Looking up from his red hand, Francis said, "I'm sorry about the glove."

Tossing it aside, Gilbert shrugged it off. "It's just a glove, mate. Don't worry yerself over it."

"The guards are running over," Antonio noticed, dropping the torch behind him. By this time, the wooden frame of the house itself had begun to cripple and surrender to the roaring wave of the flames. "Now's our chance."

Other citizens from the tavern ran out to get a view of the scene. Worried chatter started to converse through the group along with some startled shouts and cries. The trio didn't hesitate to run in the other direction straight for the trees; straight to their freedom. Wide smiles broke upon their faces as they grew ever closer.

Just as soon as they reached the tree line, Gilbert skidded to the halt sending up pebbles and dust. The shout that had carried to his ears was one to make his heart clench and his stomach turn with despair. "My baby's in there!"

Gilbert whirled on his heels to see a few guards holding a woman and man back from entering the burning house. Without hesitation, he raced back towards the group.

"What are you doing?" Francis called to him.

"Gilbert!" Antonio took off after Gilbert. Giving a grunt of frustration, Francis tailed Antonio.

A guard had spotted Gilbert running for the house and tried to block him. "Out of my way, dummkopf!" He pushed the man to the side and ran up the steps to the porch, ramming his shoulder into the door with full force. The wood gave way and flew open at the attack. Smoke immediately enveloped Gilbert at the first sign of another escape. He coughed as the black clouds stung his throat and covered his mouth. Tears unwillingly fell from his eyes trying desperately to soothe the dryness the fire so quickly caused.

Gilbert shuffled through the house struggling to see passed the smoke. Over the roaring of the flames, he could barely make out the sound of crying. "I'm coming, kid," he coughed. Running through the living room, he hurtled over a pile of wood that had already crumbled from the ceiling, and continued to the bedroom. Running into a small hallway, he followed the sound of the crying to his right. A small child, no more than ten, curled up in a bed helpless to his own fate.

The Prussian made his way to the kid and picked him up in his arms. Quickly, he pulled the bandana off his head and wrapped it around the kid's nose and mouth. Hugging him close to his chest, he went for the hallway.

A loud snapping sound came from above, crashing towards them. Gilbert stumbled out of the way, though not far enough. The fallen wood scrapped against him arm, tearing his sleeve and skin open. He cried out as the searing elements hit his skin and even leaving several splintered coals behind. He rounded the fallen boards and sprinted for the exit. Once it came into view, he closed his scorching eyes.

A swell of cold air rushed him soon after exiting the hellish atmosphere. The steps leading up the porch nearly gave him the pleasure of greeting the dirt below. However, instead of catching himself on his feet, Gilbert fell to his knees hard. Heart beating faster than the fight with Maynard and his crew, lungs screaming in a flaring pain, he gave several brutal coughs trying to suck in fresh oxygen.

The kid's tiny hands unclenched their tight grip they had on Gilbert as he gently pulled the little one away from him. Setting him on his feet facing the crowd, he got up on his own. In the fuzzy haze of his vision, he recognized two figures halfway to the trees. Without giving or receiving any words, Gilbert trotted over towards the two. When they met up, Antonio and Francis turned and the trio ran for escape once more.

One of the younger guards aimed his rifle at the runaways ready to fire. A light hand on his shoulder stopped him from pulling the trigger. He faced his ranking officer, who shook his head calmly, and lowered his weapon.

The mother ran forward and picked up her child, hugging him tightly to her chest. "My boy," she muttered through sobs. She pulled away and stroked his ash-dusted blonde hair. Words wanted to come out of her mouth, yet she was overcome with amazement and such joy that knotted up in her throat.

The man then joined the Native American woman. "We leave the house for a minute and this happens," he sighed irritably. "I'll take him back to the doctor again first thing tomorrow."

The woman sighed in relief and nodded. "I am glad Alfred is with his friend. We might've lost one of them if they both were in there."

The man shook his head, ridding him mind of the thought, and pulled the bandana off his son's face to let it hang around his neck. Even though he would later find out that a pirate had saved the life of his youngest, he had never imagined one of those brutes to ever care about, much less save the life of, someone other than their own kind.

* * *

><p>Gilbert hissed in pain when Antonio dabbed the searing gash in his arm with a wet cloth. "That smarts," he growled.<p>

"I would say that was the dumbest action you've ever pulled, I'm not going to," said Antonio. "You saved someone's child."

"Now if you had died on the other hand," Francis spoke up.

"As long as the kid is safe," Gilbert sighed. A soft smile stretched out his reddened lips. "Did I not say before that I was incredible?"

Antonio rolled his eyes playfully. "I still have yet to see it."

"I see how it is," he chuckled back. Gilbert picked up Francis' hat and swatted Antonio on the back of the head with it. He gave out another cry as Antonio pushed the rag against his burn with a smug grin on his face. "Ya bastard! I oughta have yer head for that!" The two had almost gotten into a brawl but Francis was able to break it up before it escalated to that.

Little did they know at the time, but over the next three and a half years, they became some of the most fearless, cunning, and outright foolish gang of pirates to sail the Atlantic. Across the coasts of Europe and New England to the Caribbean, they had become to be known as the Bad Pirate Trio.

Unfortunately, they each went their separate ways at one point. Gilbert decided to hold off his pirating as the military had been growing stronger and settle down for some time with his brother back in Germany. He was the first to split, and it was Antonio and Francis for another month before he grew seasick and had to resort to staying on land for some time, heading back to the streets of Paris to most likely flirt and charm every woman, and a few men on occasion, he laid eyes on. Antonio, however, felt like he was empty without sailing the waters. Even though he longed to return to Spain, he would have nowhere or no one to return to. No, for this pirate, the ocean was where he called home. These waters are where he would fall in love.


End file.
